


Remember when

by KitsuneArashi



Series: GISHWHES prompt fics [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, GISHWHES, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8237347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsuneArashi/pseuds/KitsuneArashi
Summary: Castiel Novak was in love with Dean Winchester and he hated it. He hated how his hands shook and his stomach twisted with nerves every time he saw him. He hated how sexy he looked driving his big black car. He hated how his jeans hugged his hips and bowed legs just so as he wore them with his usual flannel and leather jacket. He hated the way the guy’s emerald green eyes sparkled when he laughed. But the biggest thing Castiel hated about being in love with Dean Winchester was the fact that, despite being neighbors and despite Dean’s mother being close friends with Castiel’s for as long as he could remember, Dean Winchester hated him .





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that was rattling around in my head while I was meant to be working on Love, Life and Plastic Lemons.

 

Castiel Novak was in love with Dean Winchester and he _hated_ it. He hated how his hands shook and his stomach twisted with nerves every time he saw him. He hated how sexy he looked driving his big black car. He hated how his jeans hugged his hips and bowed legs just so as he wore them with his usual flannel and leather jacket. He hated the way the guy’s emerald green eyes sparkled when he laughed. But the biggest thing Castiel hated about being in love with Dean Winchester was the fact that, despite being neighbors and despite Dean’s mother being close friends with Castiel’s for as long as he could remember, Dean Winchester hated _him_.

They were friends as children, Castiel remembered. He remembered learning to ride their bikes together and scooping tadpoles in the small stream behind their houses. He remembered sleep overs and movie nights, barbecues and ice cream, he remembered walking home from school together and sitting in the tree outside his window to watch the stars.

He remembered the first time Dean crept in through his bedroom window; his father, John Winchester, had come home drunk that night and Castiel had heard yelling followed by the sound of breaking glass and Mary Winchester’s voice ordering John to leave and not come back. He’d heard the panicked crying of Dean’s six year old younger brother, Sam. After John left, angrily stomping down the street towards town, the night was silent, broken only by Mary’s tear stained voice quietly singing Hey Jude as she tried to soothe the mess left behind. Castiel’s parents wouldn’t let him out after dark so the ten year old had sat up, laying in his bed worried until a tap on his window scared him.

Dean’s eye was swollen a bruise already starting to show, the hit he must have taken the catalyst for Mary telling John not to return, and Castiel fretted over his best friend, checking him over for any other injuries even as Dean assured him he was OK.   
  
He remembered the time Dean looked at him, eleven years old with wide eyes, afraid he’d be turned down when he told Castiel about a thing he’d heard of people doing, cutting their fingers and pressing them together, of becoming blood brothers. He still had the scar, even now, ten years later.

He remembered when John came back, months of AA under his belt and begging Mary for another chance. How excited Dean was to get his father back, and the way he fought hard in everything he did to make his dad proud.  
  
Castiel remembered the night everything changed.

Dean had sneaked into his room, as he usually did, and they lay together in his bed while they told each other ghost stories, though it wasn’t really sneaking since he was sure their mother’s knew. He remembered how they fell asleep, unconcerned by their closeness in a way they never felt again. Partway through the night he’d had a nightmare, the same one he usually had where he was flying and his wings caught fire and he fell, but this time Dean was there and he dropped him. Castiel remembered how he’d woken to Dean shaking him, watching him carefully in the early morning light, concern bleeding from every pore. He remembered how, in his sleep muddled state, he’d been so happy to see that Dean was OK he’d flung himself into his arms and pressed their lips together for their first kiss.   
He remembered the way Dean had froze in shock, how he’d slowly relaxed into his hold and the way his lips moved, the way they cautiously opened and deepened the kiss. He remembered the gentle sigh that escaped him when Dean’s tongue crept into his mouth and he remembered the way he tasted.

Castiel also remembered the panic that filled Dean’s eyes when they pulled apart. How he flung himself backwards onto the floor, leaving Castiel confused and hurt with swollen, spit slicked lips that still tasted of Dean. He remembered Dean fleeing from his room, taking a part of the fifteen year old Castiel’s heart with him.  
  
Days of trying to talk to Dean proved futile; John Winchester, having moved back in with his family the summer before, eventually just put his foot down and told Castiel that Dean didn’t want to speak to him and that he shouldn’t keep coming over, that Dean would come by when he was ready.   
  
Castiel remembered as weeks turned into months and Dean never came. He remembered the ache in his chest slowly lessening by the passing of time only for it to be violently ripped open again when Dean turned sixteen and John gifted him the Impala, Dean opting to break in the backseat with most of the cheer-leading team, a different girl seemingly every month.   
  
He remembered the first time Dean stood by and watched his new friend, a short transfer student from Scotland who went by his surname - Crowley, knock Castiel’s books to the floor before walking off without a backwards glance even as Castiel sank to his knees and vainly tried to hide the sobs that threatened to break him open right there in the hallway.

He remembered the first time Dean laughed at him, on the floor in the hallway months later as he tried to collect his books and papers from where they’d been knocked out of his hands again. Dean had stepped on his favorite pen as he went to walk away, the plastic cracking under his boot as he snickered, kicking the broken pieces away as he left.   
  
Castiel remembered standing in his bedroom window watching Dean leave for prom, heart breaking all over again as another childhood dream died. He was asleep before Dean came back that night.   
  
He remembered opening his college approval letter with his mother, the joy of getting into the college he’d wanted to go to since he was 12 years old dulled by the pain of memories of discussions with Dean about how they’d apply together, live together, take classes together.

He remembered attending John and Mary Winchester’s funeral with his mother, holding her up as she sobbed, heartbroken to lose her best friend. He remembered watching as Sam and Dean stood stoic and expressionless while they lowered both their parents into the ground, taken too soon and too suddenly by a drunk driver. He remembered the pain in Dean’s face when they caught each others eye, before he turned away and led his brother back to the Impala.

Castiel remembered Sam coming over to talk about a charity event he was doing before Dean left for college, a competitive scavenger hunt that raised money and awareness for a charity called Random Acts. He remembered how he’d struggled over the pronunciation of the acronym, GISHWHES and how Sam had laughed and said that Dean had had the same trouble.  
  
He remembered the first time Dean had spoken to him in years. How he’d challenged him to take part in Sam’s charity thing. He remembered how he’d let out years of hurt and snarled back, telling Dean he’d take part and that he would win. He remembered the smug look on Sam’s face when they got the news that they’d be on the same team, forcing Dean and Castiel to work together.

Castiel remembered the way they’d fought each other on every task. The way they couldn’t talk to each other without his heart beating too fast and too hard. The way Dean wouldn’t ever meet his eyes unless they were yelling at each other.

He remembered how they stopped arguing and started talking. How they worked better as a team. He remembered the nervous wait to hear how they went. How Sam would invite Castiel over more often and they’d watch movies together, Dean awkwardly joining them more and more. He remembered the apology and the explanations. He remembered the biggest fight they ever had. Dean explained why he’d run at that first kiss, laying blame on his dad and his homophobic ideals. Dean explained how he’d tried to be what his father wanted him to be and how he’d made friends with Crowley. He apologized for the way he acted while under Crowley’s influence, not making any excuses for his behavior but sorry nonetheless. Castiel didn’t want to hear it.

He remembered how Dean fought hard to get Castiel to talk to him. How he’d make excuses to invite him over or turn up unannounced. He remembered when Dean turned up on his doorstep, drunk and slurring, apologies and sobs spilling out of him even as Castiel set the couch up for him to sleep on rather than trying to lead him back next door to his own house.

He remembered how things came easier between them after that, when he let go of his anger and accepted Dean’s apologies. He remembered stolen glances and secret smiles, flowers and chick flick moments.

Castiel remembered when they got the news their team won GISHWHES, he was at Dean and Sam’s house watching a movie and in his joy Dean had wrapped his arms around him, crushing their lips together for the first time in a decade.

 Dean tasted just like Castiel remembered.

 


End file.
